Business Days and Weekends
by redberry866
Summary: Inside has more info. Rated M for later chapters. What college is like between two rivaling headmasters, dysfunctional families, strategic "accidents", Primes, substitute teachers, and other strange moments and events. Some fluff and humor, some romance, some horror/disturbing psychology. Work never stops.
1. Chapter 1 Visitor Notice

_There are too ideas goin' round in my head, and what better place to place them than here_

_Contains: Humanized transformers, M-rated chapters (swearing and scandals and sex), some slight OOC-ness, an OC, and influences from G1 and Prime. Features mostly Decepticons, but some chapters will focus on the Autobots as well _

_Characters Focuses: Starscream, Ratchet, Ultra Magnus, the Seeker family_

* * *

Visitor Notice

Perfectly manicured nails dug into the packet, kneading reflexively in ire. Disbelief, initially indignant before mutating into ugly scorn, twisted his coldly handsome features into a scowl. Dark eyes darted from side to side, glancing with well-honed aloofness to his neighbors, sneaking peeks at their opened, vulnerable packets before returning to his own.

There was no mistake in the ownership; printed clearly at the top was his own name, written in the red ink he so favored. Teeth ground together before chewing in the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. The young man reclined in his seat and began to flip through the pages intently, feigning disinterest as his insides broiled. Purple marks, rare as they were, sent a wave of shock through him upon sight. By the time he reached the end of the packet, a total of five corrections had been written.

"Honestly, I don't know much about Shakespeare, but from the looks of these, you're all a bunch of idiots or a colony of slugs." Their substitute stretched his arms above his head, tattoos rippling as his muscles flexed. He sat back down in his chair, letting his feet lounge on Blitzwing's desk. Lockdown's eyes glinted as he spoke. "The only two of you that got decent marks were Starscream and Soundwave."

_Soundwave!_ Starscream allowed a smirk to pass over his face as he swiveled, taking a casual glance around until he saw the red glasses staring back at him. Soundwave, unremarkable as he was, was always easy to spot in a crowd.

Starscream made eye contact (or so he hoped) and jerked his head, eyes trailing down to Soundwave's folder before rising again. Getting the message, Soundwave lifted his folder off the desk, presenting Starscream with a clear, upside-down view of the cover page. Through the glasses and turtleneck sweater, Starscream swore he was smirking.

Starscream's face twisted into contempt as he shot Soundwave a cool glance before righting himself at his desk. As Lockdown continued to humiliate the class, barring the two Honors students, Starscream let his eyes wander to the clock before fixing themselves outside the window, thoughts focused elsewhere.

Eventually, Lockdown let the class go, their usual confidence beaten a good twenty percent lower, diving still as the substitute teacher shouted insults out the door. Starscream pushed him way out of the classroom, angrily shoving the folder into his bag. He would deal with _that_ when he reached home.

His room was a long ways away. Private shuttle service was down for the week (courtesy of a band of sophomores who would not be missed), forcing Starscream to walk to each class. It wasn't the activity he necessarily found distasteful—it was the time lost that made him irate, and the lack of privacy. Walking, simply put, made him look _sociable._ He had neither the time nor the patience for idle chatter, which happened frequently when he journeyed on foot.

Cold air bit at the Seeker's exposed skin, turning his cheeks a slight pink. The chill November weather was not uncommon for this time of year, though the weatherman had predicted sixty degrees and sun. Instead, a scattered armada of grey clouds hung low overhead, allowing only patches of sunlight through. Leaves rustled as the wind pushed them along the cement sidewalks, and Starscream pulled his maroon jacket closer to him, eyes glaring behind his black bangs to deter any fool who thought to get in his way.

The school's clock tower rang out three times, causing a flurry of activity for students who had to run to class. Other passed by Starscream in scarves and jackets, laughing amiably while sipping their coffee or hot chocolate, exclaiming some nonsense about a new book or movie, or some hot guy they saw at soccer practice. Starascream huffed when they described him, paying no attention to the Seeker behind them—it wasn't like he could deny Skywarp's attractiveness, as that would be like insulting himself, but obviously they were blind to the flailing limbs, juvenile name-calling, and frequent nosebleeds that just about summed up his brother. Oh, not to mention the hooked nose that among all the Seeker children, Starscream seemed to be the only one fortunate enough to escape.

Still, others found it highly attractive, at least judging by the pair of giggling girls hogging the sidewalk who refused to move any faster than a snail despite Starscream's impatient coughs and clicking of his boots. He swore one of them glanced over her shoulder and simply didn't budge. He was about to snarl for them to get the pit-fragged hell out of his way when a flash of red and honking horn sped by him. The girls practically swooned as a hand flashed out the driver's window to wave. It at least sped the girls up, hoping to catch him at the next stop sign on campus, though Starscream still scoffed at the theatrics.

Fifteen minutes and no make-up smeared traffic jams later, Starscream finally unlocked the door to his room and threw his backpack to the ground, going to the nearest cabinet and breaking open a bottle of wine. He didn't plan on getting wasted, at least not this early, but he needed something tasteful and belonging to the upper class to calm his nerves. It was only after he finished his first glass that he picked up the offensive paper and scowled with disbelief. A purple A-, all the more offensive because it must have come from the sanest portion of Professor Blitzwing's mind, was printed neatly in the top center of the paper. A vain twitched in Starscream's forehead. How the hell did Soundwave manage a perfect A?

The answer was probably that he spent so much time in his room, fiddling around with computers, that he learned it through sheer boredom. Though it made Starscream's life appear far more glamorous by comparison, it didn't ease the public humiliation. Starscream scowled again and poured himself another glass of wine.

By the time he had stopped pacing around his kitchen, the clock read four and there was a knock at the door. Muttering, Starscream squinted through the peephole before yanking the door open, glaring up at his semi-older brother. "What do you want?" he demanded brusquely, neither inviting him nor taking his hand off the door.

Thundercracker glared right back and just said, "_She's_ here for a special dinner, and she wants to see you."

* * *

"She wants to see me?!"

The white-haired man sighed, smoothing his aged hands over his patriotic suit as he waited patiently for his employee and friend to listen to what he had to say. It wasn't easy. Upon seeing her the day before, the man before him had dropped his lunch tray, unable to do anything except flee into the crowd of students before she could spot him. Ultra Magnus had found him later in his office, after passing the young Prime looking dejected in the hallway. "He won't tell me anything, sir," the Prime had reported. "I thought he was going to be sick for a while; he kept rubbing his chest and his head, but I think it's more emotional than physical."

"I have no doubt that it is," Ultra Magnus had replied, placing a hand on the Prime's shoulder. "Let me handle this one. Go back to your tutoring, and get a good night's sleep. There's a big game coming up."

Ultra Magnus took a breath and tried again. "It's been four years since that day, and almost three since you left her there without a word, not even a note or telephone call. I know it sounds hard to believe, but I am not at all surprised that she remembers you, nor that she wants to speak to you. You're all she has."

The other man shook his head, fists clenched in his lap. "You don't understand, sir. I can't…I can't just face her again and ask her how she's been doing, sorry that I left her but I couldn't handle the pain of it. That I still can't." There was a pause before he burst out, "Why did you hire her in the first place? It's not you didn't not know!"

"I believe she would benefit from our community far more than her old workplace," Ultra Magnus replied evenly. "All of her old students had graduated, and many of the staff members had been replaced. Here, she has a chance to build a new life, not try to salvage what remains."

_Except for me_, was what the man wanted to say, but instead he scratched his stubbly chin and muttered under his breath.

"For better or worse, she will remain here. She already seems to be thriving, and we have access to some of the best medical care in the area. We can help her, Ratchet."

Ratchet nodded and stood up, bracing his hands on his creaky knees before drawing himself up to his full height. "With all due respect, I think I've helped her enough," he said before limping out the door. Ultra Magnus let him go without comment, but once the pristine office door closed behind the old coach, he frowned and rubbed his forehead. The knowledge of what was to come didn't make the meeting any less distressing.

* * *

"What do you mean she's visiting?" Starscream snapped, jaw tightening into a grim frown. "She never visits. The hag can hardly survive a walk down a flight of stairs."

"Then she probably used the elevator." _You idiot_ did not need to be said. The condescending scorn practically hummed off Thundercracker. "We're all to attend dinner with her, so dress up and get your pale ass over there."

A triumphant smirk camped over Starscream's face. "What are you now, her little messenger boy? How many dogs did you have to run away from?"

"Shut up. I wasn't about to send 'Warp over here, and Sunstorm's busy entertaining her." They both snorted at the notion. Driving her and her ridiculous scooter up the wall was more realistic. "And it's not like Thrust or Ramjet were around."

"Well, what about Slipstream?"

"Like she's invited."

"What?" Starscream screeched. "How come she gets to worm out of this one? The hag hates me too!"

"Stop acting like Thrust; she hates all of us and you know it. Just get ready and meet in the Presidential Dining Hall by six."

* * *

Two hours later found six of the seven Seeker children in their best suits and ties, waiting outside the grand doors to Megatron's personal dining room to be entertained with possibly the worst supper of their lives. Skywarp's overwhelming fear outweighed that of all five siblings, grating the nerves of his triplet-siblings, which was hardly helped by Ramjet's incessant insistence of how much fun he was having and how he was sure grandmother would be in a most excellent mood.

Starscream bit his tongue through it all, determined to make it through the night without incident or complaint. When the butlers finally admitted them, the siblings walked in an orderly line of eldest to youngest, Thundercracker stepping up to fill the roll of an absent Slipstream. Their grandmother merely nodded her consent, and he filed off to the right, taking a seat at the lavishly decorated table. Starscream stiffly approached her and knelt, taking a weathered hand and kissing the wretched thing, murmuring, "Grandmother, I'm delighted to see you again."

"And what a greater delight it would be if you kept that despicable tongue inside your head," she countered, snatching her hand away from him. "Get out of my sight, or this generous dinner will be wasted."

Starscream kept his face vaguely disinterested, biting said tongue for a moment before bowing his head once and making his leave, sitting next to Thundercracker. Skywarp scampered over soon afterwards, though Starscream knew her words to him wouldn't have been half as biting. Skywarp, meek, cowardly, sniffling Skywarp could outrank Starscream at any point, he knew, and she knew he did. Of course the youngest triplet was unaware of this hierarchy, because the stage was always centered around Starscream, for better or worse, but Starscream understood the inner workings of their sophisticated, savage culture.

Still, if he closed his eyes and ignored the voices very intently, Starscream could pretend that the dinner was enjoyable. The food itself, from Megatron's personal kitchens, was undeniably heavenly, but Starscream would have settled for a three-star restaurant if it took him away from the others. From her. Every remark went back to him, every success of Thundercracker or Sunstorm was grated against his nose, until finally Starscream snapped that he was the only other one in his class who passed their latest test.

"Oh, and did you score at the top? Or was the C- good enough for you?"

Starscream immediately saw his mistake, and knew that if he lied, she would suspect, because she always suspected, and then she would take that suspicion and excavate a chasm in the arctic with it, and bring it back to him with hell on her heels. Between grit teeth he told her that it was an A-, and he had placed second to Soundwave.

"You call that a success? You couldn't outrank a mute, a freak, a boy who collects strays so he…" She rambled on and on, and Starscream inwardly hoped that she would choke on an olive and just die already, and for once it looked as though Thundercracker agreed. But he took it all without another word, sipping his wine and praying for something to happen. For all he cared, the building could catch on fire. However, as it normally did, the universe bent to the will of Grandmother, and it was long past nine when she dismissed them, letting Sunstorm kiss her hand, terrorizing Skywarp one final time, and wishing Thundercracker the best of luck with his soccer tournament on Saturday. Starscream nearly rolled his eyes before he caught himself, but somehow she still managed to find one last fault before he gave her a poisonous smile and wished her a safe drive home, letting Megatron's golden doors slam in her wrinkled face.

* * *

_Alright, I know this was a short chapter, but I think I've gotten all I can out of it. By the way, this story has very little intention in regards to plot so far. Some chapters will be funny, some will be sweet and fluffy, and others will be dark and horrific. I have some arcs that have definite definition, but otherwise it's a lot of "A Day in the Life Of" all the Transformers cast. _


	2. Chapter 2 C's for Bee

_Two chapters in two days! It must be a record! Can't expect it to last though. I've been possessed by the phantom of writing, but who knows when I'll be back to focusing on making friends at college and practicing my martial arts. Anyways, without further ado, here's your fanfiction._

_Character Centric: Optimus, Bumblebee, Sparkdancer (OC)_

* * *

-C's for Bee

Optimus sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was…an improvement, to say the most.

Bumblebee squirmed in his chair and bit the inside of his lip, knowing Optimus was disappointed and hating the feeling, though that didn't stop him from flunking his latest test. It wasn't his fault that Sari and Blurr kept calling him over at eleven at night to play videogames, or that his roommate snored loudly enough to shake the dorm, which was why Bumblebee always overslept when he could. The guilt kept him up sometimes too. It had taken Bulkhead and Prowl to explain what the gnawing pit in his stomach and constant weight on his mind meant, because Bumblebee couldn't remember feeling it before unless he was sick. But Ratchet had informed him in no misread terms that he was in perfect health.

"I mean, it's not a D, right?" he blurted out when the silence grew too long. "I passed!"

"That's the not the point, Bumblee," Optimus explained exasperatedly. "Iacon University isn't just about doing the least amount of work you can and passing. It's about pushing yourself to overcome challenges, to strive to do better, and to be all that you can be."

The lecture had been given countless times, but it still stung. "Are you saying I can't be better than a C? A third-rate?"

"Bumblebee, I know you can do better! That's why I'm tutoring you twice a week, because I think you have the ability to do well, and you just need a little direction."

"No, you're tutoring me because your status as a Prime depends on it," Bumblebee countered. It was unfair and he knew it, but the red-hot flush of shame was coming back full force. "Ultra Magnus told you to pick some loser and turn him into a perfect little angel, so you picked me, except that's going down the drain, and I know Bulkhead isn't doing any better so that's why Sentinel's been giving you so much crap lately. So maybe you should stop pitying me and find some better student to preach to, and I can go back to being a D-ranked failure, since obviously my C's aren't much better!" Feeling like he was going to vomit, Bumblebee threw himself out of his chair and hurtled out the door, hearing Optimus calling after him. Bumblebee tore down the hallways, grateful they were deserted because he could feel his eyes becoming damp. After three corners, he slowed to a walk, wiping his eyes clean before he could risk bumping into anyone.

His intuition served him well, because upon rounding the next corner, he saw a flash of white and heard greet, "Hey there little 'Bee. How's it going?"

His irritation spiked immediately, but he stuffed it in an undersized suitcase and sat down after realizing the locks wouldn't close. "Hey Jazz. Just going back to my room to do…homework," he lied. "Where are you heading?"

"Nowhere in particular. I was thinking I'd drop by and see if OP wanted to do any training for the game on Sunday."

"Oh, right… the game."

There was a brief pause, and then Jazz stated, "You haven't been training."

"I have to!" The suitcase bulged and bucked. "You try having Blurr knock on your door at six a.m. demanding that we go run eight miles!"

Jazz chuckled and crossed him arms. "Well, he might just be the person we need to win, especially if OP can find a way to get him to listen a little bit more. Blurr doesn't respect Sentinel at all."

"Just get Longarm to talk to him," Bumblebee suggested, joining in on the laughter. Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. "Blurr would eat a bullet for him if he asked."

"Blurr does take his role as Longarm's understudy enthusiastically. Not so sure he could top the twin's dedication though. How's it going with you and OP?"

Bumblebee froze, stunned by the innocently phrased question, afraid to look at Jazz's sunglasses. "It's going great," he lied again, grin forced. "Yeah, it's, um, a grand old time. Okay," he sighed, seeing an eyebrow rise. "It's not much better than usual. We prepped for such a long time last week, but I got a C on my Biology test, and I couldn't even show him my physic tests because I bombed it."

"Well, just keep trying 'Bee," Jazz encouraged. "OP won't let you quit."

"Um, right," the sophomore said wretchedly. "Well, I've gotta go. Sari wants me to study our art lecture with her, and Blurr and I have to practice for the game."

"Stay smart little 'Bee. In case I don't see you before the game, good luck."

"Thanks Jazz. Hey, uh, could you not tell Optimus about this?"

Jazz inwardly frowned but promised he wouldn't mention it. He watched the yellow jacket and baseball cap run off, backpack dangling precariously off one shoulder. Bumblebee definitely didn't have his usual confident spring in his step. With a mental shrug, Jazz continued his stroll to Optimus's temporary office since his last one was inaccessible after a stunt that had Sentinel and the Jettwins written all over it in large, invisibility-on-strike ink. What with the game coming up and the buzz about a refurnished computer lab, a vandalized office was tossed to the lower end of priorities. Since then, Optimus had been cajoling other professors into letting him use their space, resulting in the normally social Prime to become as elusive as Prowl, even when Jazz knew where to find him.

It took listening at a few doors before Jazz discerned which one the Prime was in. Out of respect he knocked, and it only took a few moments for Optimus to call out an alert, "Come in." He looked attentive and cheerful, but Jazz could see the pushed-aside baggage in very expressive blue eyes.

Optimus smiled when he saw Jazz and said, "I was just about to head out."

"Already? Took me forever to track you down man." Jazz glanced around. "I didn't even know this office space was being used anymore."

"It belongs to the new professor. Ultra Magnus hired her early in the week," he explained further, reading Jazz's expression correctly. "I think she teachers history, though she might be helping Red Alert and Ratchet with coaching and nursing."

"Oh yeah, I remember seeing her around. Coulda sworn she was just an older student. Anyways, now you've found yourself another office to hang around in."

"Just until the weekend." Optimus yawned and stretched, wincing as stiff muscles protested. "I can't lie and say I'm not looking forward to it. Did you know I have two exams tomorrow, plus practice, _and_ I have to help Bulkhead with his art project?"

"I thought he was some kind of art genius."

"Well, he's really…creative, and some of them are pretty good. It's just his self-esteem that needs polishing." Optimus gathered his backpack and motioned towards the door. "C'mon, let's head out. I don't know what time she's supposed to be back, but I'm starving. Is it dinner time yet?"

"You've got about a forty-five minute wait," Jazz announced, checking his watch. "Isn't Prowl supposed to be helping you with the youngsters? Or Ratchet?"

"Ratchet's been pretty busy lately. I don't mind the work, I just wish that they would…" Optimus fell silent, Bumblebee's words still ringing in his head. He glanced around the abandoned hallways and said, "They're so hard on themselves, Jazz, and I don't know if I'm being of any use to them. I don't think they even like me half the time."

"What makes you say that?"

One of the great things about Jazz, Optimus decided, was how warm and cozy his voice was. He didn't jump to accusations or immediately comfort you. He just asked questions in that reclining-couch voice of his, and he _listened_. But despite how much he yearned to spill everything, confide in Jazz about everything troubling with his team, Optimus knew he couldn't betray their trust. No good having Bumblebee think that the whole world knows his problems. "I don't know Jazz. They're all still just having trouble, and our meetings have been going…less than great lately."

"That why Bumblebee looked like he swallowed a tack today? I bumped into him before I found you," Jazz said. "Looked nervous and distracted. Told me things weren't going so well. I told him I wouldn't mention it to ya, but I figured you'd want to know."

"Thanks Jazz, but please don't next time. We had a disagreement today, and we're both a little frustrated right now." A thought struck him and he moaned. "Jazz, I can't do this. How am I supposed to keep being Bumblebee's friend, mentor him, and be on the same team as him in the game?"

"I wouldn't worry about the game. He's in the reserve team and he knows it, so just make it through practice and let Ratchet deal with him. I think you'll have more trouble with Sentinel."

"Hey, stop that!" Optimus shouted suddenly, his voice stern enough to frighten the two students into dropping their cans of spray paint and running. "I'll have to report this!" he called after them, leaving the sidewalk to view the damage. Jazz followed, snickering. "I didn't even recognize them," he admitted to Jazz. "They'll probably realize that when they don't get a follow up."

"They're just freshmen, OP. They'll learn. But hey, maybe you could get them to tutor Bulkhead in art. This ain't half bad."

The two stared at the graffiti thoughtfully before Optimus cocked his head. "Is that supposed to be a robot dinosaur?"

"Nah, it's too small."

"Look at the head though."

"No dinosaur looked like that."

"Well, fine, the skeleton of one. It's got these weird insect eyes."

"Kind of looks like one of those Bionicals these kids in my school would play with. Definitely not a dinosaur though. Maybe some kind of robot alien."

They pondered it for a few more moments until Optimus decided he had scheduled in enough time of non-work. Shaking his head, he said, "Sorry Jazz, but I have a lot to do. Maybe after this weekend, we can take a drive, get some lunch or something? I feel like it's been forever since we've done something that wasn't bathroom checks together."

"Sounds good to me. I'll catch ya later OP."

Optimus waved goodbye and forged back to his dorm, where he barely had enough time to change clothes and grab a bagel from the pantry. He stopped at the door, hand hovering above the doorknob, unsure if it was even worth it to go. Yes, he was a Prime, and a team captain, even if he was only mostly in charge of the reserve team, but did it really matter? Sentinel skipped frequently, and Optimus knew the team was doing well. Ratchet might chew him out, but the coach had been in a sour mood all week. Plus, there was Bumblebee…

Fifteen minutes later, Optimus pulled up to the soccer field on his bike, sticking the last piece of bagel into his mouth before he locked the bike into the rack. Ratchet already had the team on their second lap after their third set of push-ups and crunches, and judging by the scowl on his face, had no intention of relenting. He could make out Bumblebee's ever-present baseball cap in the far side of the field, the younger boy failing in his attempt to keep pace with Blurr, despite multiple warnings from both Optimus and Ratchet about the foolishness of that goal. Blurr was already almost at the finish line, while Grimlock and the Jettwins were steadily catching up to Bumblebee.

Optimus jumped the fence and jogged over to Ratchet, huffing a, "Sorry I'm late." Ratchet merely scowled and pointed at the ground, Optimus obediently submitting, counting out the number of push-ups—10 for each minute he was late by. A familiar, sneering laugh rang over his head, but Optimus ignored it until he finished his fifty expected push-ups before craning his head to see Sentinel lounging by the fence, a cocky grin on his face. Optimus glanced at Ratchet (who was busy bullying the players) before approaching Sentinel, hoping that it would be over with shortly.

"The great and mighty Prime taking punishment?" Sentinel jeered. "Kind of undermines our authority, don't you think?"

On the contrary, Optimus believed that since Primes were held to a higher level of responsibility, it was more important that they accepted the consequences of their actions. He didn't say that know, having memorized Sentinel's response, and instead shrugged, not trusting his ability to stay civil.

"Anyways, I'm not even sticking around for this one. Just don't see the point, you know, since I'm not gonna be here on Saturday anyways."

This Optimus couldn't ignore. "You're WHAT?" he demanded, drawing several glances from the team and passerby's. He didn't care. "What do you mean you're not going to be here? Sentinel, this is the game we've been training for all semester. You can't just not show up. You're the team captain!"

The lofty smirk never left his face. "Well, you know, I got orders from Longarm himself, and I really can't ignore the word of an upperclassman Prime, can I? It's like disobeying Ultra Magnus himself. So you'll just have to take over for me."

Optimus couldn't help but stare. Months of putting up with Sentinel's leadership, going behind his back to comfort the other players, having his advice soundly ignored in preference to Sentinel's voice, being called "reserve captain"…months of abuse and torture paled in comparison to the morale of the team, because, in his air of supremecy, Sentinel never gave Ratchet or Optimus the play plans. "I've got it covered" was the most common phrase, and it wasn't the type of matter you brought to Ultra Magnus, dropped on his desk, and like an eight-year-old say, "It broke. Fix it?"

But no Sentinel, no plans. While possible the team might have a vague idea of what they were, Optimus couldn't ask them, not without revealing what was at stake. Prime's weren't allowed to show weakness.

Even if he did get them, Optimus realized, there was no way he'd be able to memorize them, play them, and give orders. He glanced over his shoulder at Ratchet, desperately wishing the coach would turn around and solve everything, but Ratchet was good at ignoring hopeful wishing. They bounced off him and typically shriveled up on the ground and died.

"Alright," Optimus said, not trusting himself to say much more. "Just get me the plans, and I'll take care of it."

"Yeah sure, just stop by after practice and I'll hand them over."

"Sentinel, just go get them, alright? You live five minutes away, and I have to have them now for the team."

"No can do, Optimus. I've got a date with half a dozen cheeseburgers and three chocolate milkshakes."

"Sentinel!" Optimus regretted screaming almost immediately, but Sentinel simply laughed, punched Optimus on the arm, and sauntered back to the bike rack where he easily tripped the code on the lock and took Optimus's bike. His jaw fell open as Sentinel biked away, giving a cheeky salute over his shoulder. This simply wasn't happening.

"Prime!" Ratchet's bark chased away any thoughts of pursuing Sentinel. Ratchet, hands on his hips, stood over an exhausted team, most of them sitting on the field and some flopped on their backs. Like Bumblebee. "They're all yours. Where's Sentinel going?" he demanded.

It was now or never. "He has a big exam tomorrow, and asked me to cover today's session. He wasn't able to give me the plans though, so we're going to improvise a bit. Just look at it as a new type of training," he insisted, a bit irate when they all groaned. "Our original plans won't go exactly the way we want them to, so we'll have to know how to think on our feet. Just think of this as an intensive." He grabbed the soccer ball from Ratchet and said, "All right guys, let's roll out."

* * *

They had been training for an hour, and Optimus refrained from cursing Sentinel every second of it. Ironhide by far was performing the best, if only because he was the goalie and thus had to change his strategy the least. In fact, he managed to block nearly every shot, something that Optimus wearily commended him for with a pat on the shoulder and strained, "Excellent job."

He could not say the same for the rest.

Perhaps it was the nerves before the game. Perhaps there was drama that he didn't know about. Perhaps someone slipped a bottle of crazy into their lunch stew and he didn't know about it because he had spent the last five lunch periods tutoring, studying, and relocating heavy items around the school, partly for authentic reasons, partly due to pranks and hazing. Whatever the reason, Optimus knew he should be long past the point of caring.

"Blurr, I don't care if you thought you saw an opening and thought you could make it," he shouted, waving his arms for emphasis. "We're a team, and you need to learn that when we have a plan of attack, we need to stick with it unless all other options are out."

"If you don't me saying sir, Optimus Prime sir, you were the one, and these are your words not mine, you were the one who said we needed to learn to improvise and think on our feet because—"

"If we don't have any other options," he affirmed through gritted teeth. "I meant in general, not at every point and curve. While we're in practice we have to learn to communicate and trust one another, and I can't do that if you're constantly making your own calls. You're not team captain." He sent Blurr off to join the others, hating to scold in public. Ratchet gave the Prime a one-sided smile as the white-haired boy sprinted back to the others. "Ratch, how are going to win this?"

"A lot of luck? You're losing one."

Optimus raised his head from his forearms, spotting the trouble immediately. Bumblebee was storming off the field, whipping his baseball cap of his head in fury, sweat flying in an arc. He groaned and gave Ratchet a pleading look, but met only an impassive wall. With a shove, Optimus righted himself off the fence and chased after his quarry.

The first times he called his name, Bumblebee ignored him, though his pace began to quicken. "Bumblebee!" Optimus finally snapped, catching up and grabbing him by the arm. The reaction was so immediate and unexpected that he didn't have to to block the punch that landed on his chest.

"Just give up already! I don't want to talk about it," Bumblebee yelled. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Optimus rubbed his stinging chest and said, "Then don't talk. Just get yourself back in the field until practice is over."

"Why? It doesn't matter. We're not going to stand a chance if this keeps up, and it's not like I'm even needed anyways. I'm on the reserve team, remember?"

"So was I until today, but as far as I'm concerned, we're all in this together now. I need someone I can rely on in the field with me."

"Then get someone else. You don't need me. Hey!" Bumblebee shouted when Optimus grabbed both his shoulders and pulled him close, until their faces were mere inches away.

"Bumblebee, we _do_ need you, and don't ever think that we don't," Optimus said, whispered really, in such a broken, defeated voice that Bumblebee forgot to be angry for a moment. It passed, and he shoved away as hard as he could, shouting for Optimus to leave him alone before running away. It had begun to rain, and the last thing Optimus wanted to do was go charging through the mud to literally drag a reluctant, upset Bumblebee back through it. He took a deep, measured breath and released it steadily, and then turned to go back to the field.

Everyone asked about Bumblebee, so Optimus lied through his teeth once again, explaining how Bumblebee had been feeling sick all day, but had really tried to be here for the team, but Optimus told him to take care of himself first. This seemed to spark some motivation in them, because for the last hour everyone stayed on track, and Optimus only had to half-heartedly reprimand Blurr twice more, who ducked his head and said no more on the matter. At the end of practice, Optimus wrote them all notes giving them permission to use the RA and Prime bathrooms, thanking them all for a good practice, and telling them to drink something hot and get a good night's sleep. Eventually only he and Ratchet were left, the old coach rubbing his old joints with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"So what really happened?" Ratchet asked once Optimus sat down on the sheltered bench, packing his belongings into his packback. "I caught you lying twice today. Not a good habit, for a Prime."

"I couldn't just say that two of their teammates abandoned them Ratchet," came the semi-automatic response. "We started doing really well towards the end."

"Just be sure to get things squared away with Sentinel and Bumblebee," came the blatant advice. "And don't get sick. You know I can write you a doctor's note if you've got too much on your plate."

"I'm alright."

"That's three."

"Then I'll be alright," Optimus said, hiking his backpack onto his shoulders. "I need to go, Ratchet. I've got an essay due tomorrow and some plans to make." _And no bike to ride back with,_ he thought bitterly.

Ratchet considered him for a moment before saying, "I'll drive you back. It's not too far, and you live close to the road." He lifted himself up, wincing when his cold knees protested. "I'll talk to someone about getting your bike back too. See if we can get Sentinel a write-up."

"It's not worth the trouble to write him up. I'll just wait until he's gone on his very important assignment, then get it back. And a new lock." Ratchet grunted, dissatisfied, but Optimus could hardly care. The last thing he needed was retaliation against a write-up. "Can we meet at some point to discuss the game plan?" Ratchet nodded and hit the unlock button on his keys. The old cars headlights flashed, one noticeably dimmer than the other, before they piled in, Optimis's long legs wishing the medic's car had a backseat to stretch out in. "Thanks. I think tomorrow morning would be the best. We can get at least one or two more training sessions in before the game."

As Optimus enjoyed the stale heater and crabby company, Bumblebee lay in his bed with all the lights off, hoping it would tip Bulkhead off not to talk to him when he came back from wherever he was. He tried to keep himself from crying, and if that failed, from crying loudly. His hair was still soaked from the cold November rain, and his fingers had only begun to warm up. If only Sari were here…but Bumblebee didn't think he could act this way in front of her. Normally he could tell her anything, but they were justified, macho complaints about things that he knew he could handle on his own. She had done the same. But he didn't think they had ever cried in front of each other, not even when her dog died, or when Bumblebee had his first real break-up with a girl he thought he loved.

Bulkhead did come in presently, making a ruckus in his efforts to be quiet, but Bumblebee ignored him. Immediately Bulkhead knew something was wrong, but he decided if Bumblebee was ignoring him, perhaps he wanted to be ignored in return. Without a word the brown-haired boy changed into his green pajamas, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. Even though Bulkhead didn't snore that night, Bumblebee still found that he couldn't sleep.

* * *

Sparkdancer slammed her forehead down on her kitchen table and refused to budge, even when someone pounded on her door. Every muscle ached, and she knew that she'd have a bruise the size of a softball on her leg tomorrow. She drew her arms closer to her head, cutting out the light and allowing her conscious to slip. She could feel herself slipping away, feel the levels of her awareness slowly fading, feel herself sinking into the beautiful black that was sleep…

When she opened her eyes, two men were sitting at the table with her.

"Sonnuva…what time is it?" she asked, rubbing her aching eyes.

"Time to wake up and head to class," replied the redhead smugly.

Sparkdancer straightened and leapt to her feet, entire body screeching at the unfair treatment. A groan escaped her lips and she groped half-blind around the table, mutterings including, "You've gotta be kidding me, I can't believe it's morning, where the fuck is all my shit—"

Knock Out began sniggering at her antics, finally developing into a full laugh when she tripped on the leg of the table, though Breakdown quickly steadied her, flashing an apologetic grin. "Relax, 'Dancer, it's nine forty-five. Good thing we know the codes though, otherwise you really would have spent all night locked up there."

"Screw you," she told Knock Out, easing herself into the chair next to Breakdown. He patted her on the shoulder sympathetically, inadvertently hastening her slouch onto the table, chin rest on her forearms. "I just had one of the longest days of my life. Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry Sparky. But when you weren't answering, Knock Out and I got worried. You doing alright?" Sparkdancer nodded, twisting herself slowly and gritted her teeth when her vertebrae began to pop.

"Need me to check anything? I am a doctor after all."

"Sorry, didn't catch that," Sparkdancer replied, twisting the other way. "Care to repeat yourself for the hundredth time? Ow!" She winced; Breakdown frowned. "Well, okay…I did kinda bang up my foot a bit." Knock Out motioned for her to prop it up, so Sparkdancer set it on a chair, using her two arms to lift it. "I fell a couple times, and once I put my foot out to stop it, but just ended up twisting it instead. If it still hurt tomorrow, I was going to go see Hook about it, but—ow!"

Knock Out picked up her foot, now shoeless, and rotated it, glancing up at her occasionally to test for visible signs of pain. He prodded along the different bones and tendons, and Sparkdancer felt herself relaxing despite the occasional stab of pain. Knock Out could be a good doctor when he wanted to be, and Sparkdancer trusted him to treat her injuries seriously.

"I don't think it's too bad. Most likely just a sprain, if even that. Just stick some ice on it, stretch gentle, and try not to put too much weight on it."

Breakdown was at the freezer door before Sparkdancer could stand. Admittedly it wasn't much of a feat, but Sparkdancer appreciated it. "So, what's the news on the game? Or is Megatron keeping it a secret from us peasants?"

Sparkdancer shrugged, leaning back in her seat after securing the icepack to her leg. "Not much of a secret. Apparently that one Prime…whatever his name was, well, Shockwave succeeded in getting him away for the weekend. So we've got one less player to worry about, and rumor has it that the team was a wreck without them."

"Didn't you just get the news tonight?"

"Shockwave is very thorough," Knock Out responded.

"And timely," Sparkdancer added. "Sometimes I think he has cameras set up around that school."

"Wouldn't surprise me. He's got them hidden here too."

Exclamations of "No way" and "You're joking" went around the table before arguments lead to gossip. Sparkdancer, on the verge of falling asleep, realized some time later that each of them had a glass of wine in hand, and the clock was almost back to the single digits. No one minded, seeing as how their typical lab was pushed back two hours. However, while the wine dulled the pain, when Sparkdancer tried to replace her icepack and stumbled to the floor, everyone decided to call it a night. A limping Sparkdancer was escorted to her bedroom door by the slightly more sober Breakdown, though she denied further assistance, claiming, "The bed's ten feet away." After checking that the coast was clear of Shockwave, the duo let themselves out, Sparkdancer waving from her doorway. Once the door shut behind them, Sparkdancer collapsed onto her bed, vaguely thinking about a shower, or at the very least stripping off her damp, muddy clothes. Deciding she'd court the consequences of filth tomorrow, she hit the pillow and stayed there.

* * *

_Sorry for the cheesy "Roll Out" in there, but it had to happen. Also, I'll say this here and I'll say it again in the next chapter, I have no fuking clue how the rules of soccer work. I'm sorry to all the soccer fans who will read this, but I'm in college and writing a fanfiction. I don't think it's crucial for me to learn when I'm already spending my freetime with this. Ain't trying to be ignorant, just want to let you all know. If it helps, think of it as Cybertron soccer. Just like how we think of basketball as Lobbing. Maybe this can be Sobbing XD_


End file.
